At Currabwee Poem by Francis Ledwidge

Every night at CurrabweeLittle men with leather hatsMend the boots of FaeryFrom the tough wings of the bats.So my mother told to me,And she is wise you will agree. .

Louder than a cricket's wingAll night long their hammer's gleeTimes the merry songs they singOf Ireland glorious and free.So I heard Joseph Plunkett say,You know he heard them but last May.

And when the night is very coldThey warm their hands against the lightOf stars that make the waters goldWhere they are labouring all the night.So Pearse said, and he knew the truth,Among the stars he spent his youth.

And I, myself, have often heardTheir singing as the stars went by,For am I not of those who rearedThe banner of old Ireland high,From Dublin town to Turkey's shores,And where the Vardar loudly roars?